“I don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.” --Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
alleluia
she hadn't managed
to keep solid food
down
since the last meal
they shared,
and so it was
dehydrated and
faint w/fear
that she came
to the Tomb, awaiting
the reek
of despair and rotting,
unsure
if she would be able
to withstand it,
knowing only
that she had to Know.
only weeks before
she had seen
her brother
emerge,
beyond Hope,
from out the miasma
of Ending,
but this was different.
she had known how
to love Lazarus,
w/all the fierceness,
the childish loyalty
of siblings.
but she had never quite
figured out
how to love Him.
and so it was dizzy
and faint
w/insecurity that she
came
to the Tomb
and, kneeling,
looked inside
and He was not there.
a second wounding.
it was a gardener
who found her after,
huddled
in the cold wet warmth
of aching
and the Garden
on the third day.
it was the gardener, only
a Gardener,
who Recognized her.
with tenderness
unlooked-for
he spoke her name
aloud:
Mary.
her Name
on a stranger's lips:
my Child long-hoped-for.
it was then,
and only then,
she first learned
how to love Him: no
trumpets. no lilies. just
dewfall, and tears,
and Rising
in unexpected places.
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Poem © 2017 by Tom Emanuel
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QUESTIONS FOR THE WEEK: When have you experienced “rising in unexpected places”? How can we keep our eyes and hearts open to beauty that surprises us “despite everything”?